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Monday, February 23, 2015

Yes I do. I just refuse to call a woman, myself, my
daughter, my mother or my sister a slut. I don’t see how parading down Water
Street in stilettoes, fishnet stockings, a bra and panties can do anything but
give a few perverts something to jackoff to. Sorry. I just don’t.

Slutwalks have become the new “buzz protest” for women. According
to the organizers literature, participants protest against explaining or excusing rape
by referring to any aspect of a woman's appearance and call for an end to rape
culture.

Now the idea behind the Slutwalk is something I will support and even
protest for. Just tell me how this is different from the “Take Back the Night”
march?

I will be the first to tell you that what a woman wears at
home, in a night club, walking on the street or playing hockey does not
contribute to her being sexually assaulted. If that was the case, why are
Muslim women, who are completely covered from head to toe, raped? They don’t show
anything but their eyes and hands. So we know that covering a women completely
still makes a man want to rape her.

The truth is, men who commit sexual assaults or rape will do
it based on opportunity and gaining trust, among other things. Not on
miniskirts or tube tops. They take the time to groom their victims and the
family of their victims to gain their trust before taking advantage of it. Or
they wait for the opportunity when their victim is weak or vulnerable, like
when she is intoxicated at a party.

My problem is the word “slut.”

Slut is the description of herself a woman hears repeatedly
when she is being held down and raped or gang raped. Slut is the reason she is given
when someone she loves is punching her in the face. Slut is the nickname a
young girl is given by her friends for being pretty or sure of herself. It’s
the name used to cut her down or put her in her place.

Slut is the last thing a woman hears when she receives the
fatal blow that ends her life.

Organizers of the SlutWalk says they want to “Re-appropriate
the word slut” and “Take it back.”

But take it back to where? Re-appropriate it to what? Do
they expect Oxford Dictionary to add it to their new word list in 2015?

Slut: Adjective to describe a women in charge of her own
sexuality.

The word “Rape” is never going to mean “A day at the beach.”

It’s never going to happen. At no point in our future will
anyone walk into a class of high school girls during a career fair and say “My,
what a wonderful class of sluts. I remember when we didn’t own our sexuality.”

I am 51 years old. I have worked through the “What great
legs you have, you should wear shorty skirts” 80s, the “There goes her career
now that she has kids” 90s and the “There’s another harassment course you have
to complete this year” 2000s. I didn’t kick open that glass ceiling and suffer
from the cuts so my daughter can march through the streets calling herself a
slut!

We are never going to change rape culture by dressing provocatively
and marching with the word slut written across our breasts. We change rape
culture through education and punishment. We change rape culture by talking
about sexuality to our sons, brothers, fathers, uncles and other men in our
lives. Then educate our daughters, sisters, Mothers and women in our lives
about their sexuality and why we should never use the word “Slut” to describe
any woman.

When the United States changed the laws to give Black people
equality, those who committed hate crimes against them didn’t throw their hands
up in the air and say, “Well we’re equal now. Better leave them alone.” Their
hate continued, some even became more violent because they didn’t want the
government telling them what to do.

After those laws were put in place, those people who were
filled with hate had children. Their children were subjected to their parents hate
and ignorance but could see things changing. Then those children had children,
and they could see the world changing. And so on. And so on. Now they have a
Black President. It took generations to change the mindset.

Did it create a perfect equal world for Black people? No.
There will always be people who discriminate against someone. But it made it
less acceptable.

Black people did not start the “N-word march” to protest
their treatment. They created the “Million Man March.” They invited prominent
speakers to convey to the world a vastly different
picture of the Black male and to unite against economic and social ills plaguing
the African American community.

I know what you’re saying “But Black Rap artists use it in
their lyrics to take back the word.”

But did it work? The N-word will never be acceptable to use
in any setting because we are educated now. We know what it means. Rap artists
can “own it” all they want, but for millions it will always be the last name a
Black man was called before he was lynched.

The same as “Slut” will always be the last name a women is
called before she is murdered.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

I am dialing my third 1-800 number. I bought a GE fridge
from Sears in October and the darn door keeps breaking on it.

Yesterday I opened the door to get low-fat, Greek yogurt
which I eat before having McDonalds to make myself feel better. The fridge door
starts doing the old bump and grind but not in a good way. I close the door and
hear the same sound. I continue to open and close it hoping the sound will go
away but it just gets worse. I start looking around the hinges hoping I can fix
it to no avail. So I closed the door and walked away hoping when I came back
later for the low-fat, chocolate pudding it would have fixed itself.

But it didn’t. I pull out the warranty card and the receipt
from Sears and call the overly friendly lady who sold me the fridge. She’s not
that friendly now, or that helpful. She gives me a 1-800 number to call. I call
to find out there’s another 1-800 number to call. I continuously press 1 for
English… 1 for service, 1 for repairs, 1 for appliances and 1 for fridges. I
get rewarded with elevator music. My marketing mind is wondering why they are
not playing the soundtrack to Frozen instead.

Finally, “Paul” with the East Indian accent answers only to
tell me I have to call back the first 1-800 number I was given because they
take care of the issue if the fridge is less than one year old.

I start the process again: 1-800, press 1 for English, 1 for
service, 1 for appliances, 1 for fridges, five minutes of elevator music. How
ironic the first song is Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself”

Finally Sue with her thick East Indian accent answers the
phone with “Please tell me your phone number?” So I go into the whole here’s my
name & number spiel.

Then she asks me why I am calling so I go through the whole
“My fridge door is broke” routine for the third time.

Then she asks me “What is the closest major intersection
near your home?”

“What? I am not sure what you just said” I tell her.

“Please tell me the name of the closest major intersection
near your home?” I get this feeling that she is going to tell me to go play in
it.

“Why? What’s that got to do with my fridge door?”

“I have to be able to tell the repair man how to find your
house” she tells me.

Now I decide to have some fun with her. “I live next door to
Andrea. You know Andrea. We worked together years ago. She’s blond, likes
gardening.”

There’s a long pause. “I don’t know Andrea. I need the name
of the closest major intersection.”

“Toronto.”

“Ok thank you. Do you have a dog?”

It went over her head. “Yes I have a dog.”

“Ok then. You will have to be good to your dog.”

“I am always good to my dog.”

“The dog has to be taken care of.”

“My dog is treated better than most children. Why are you
asking about my dog? Do you think he broke the fridge?”

“No. When our repair man arrives you will have to take care
of the dog.”

“I will send the dog to the spa for the day. He will be
happy Sears is so concerned about him.”

“We have to make sure the dog does not get angry at the
repair man.”

“Oh” then I get it. “The dog will be fine. I am the one
pissed at the repair man. This is his second trip to fix the door.”

With a straight voice she says, “We cannot send a repair man
if you’re going to be angry with him.”

“I won’t be angry with him. I’ll take care of him like the
dog.”

“What?” she asks

“I’ll be as good to the repair man as I am to my dog” my
fingers are crossed by she can’t see that.

“Ok I will give you a file number and the phone number to a
local repair man.”

“What? I have to call another number? Why can’t you make the
appointment?”

“Oh we can’t make the appointment. You have to call a local
repair man to set up the appointment.”

“Ok, give me the number.”

“902-753…”

“Wait. 902 is Nova Scotia. I am calling from Newfoundland.”

“Yes that is fine. Call this number and they will send a
repair man to you within two days” she reassures me.

“Not from Nova Scotia. I need a repair man in Newfoundland.”

“No this is the number you have to call. They will drive to
your house in two days.”

“I doubt that. I live on an Island. They have to fly or take
a ferry. I need a number that starts with 709”

“Ok. I do have a number that starts with 709 but you have to
call the other number first. I assure you the repair man will come to your
house very quickly.”

“Is that because he knows my dog will be locked away at the
spa and I have to be nice to him?”

Another long pause. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yes I have a pen. Give me the number”

Then she adds, “Are you happy with our service? Is there
anything else I can do for you?

“Do you dog sit? The spa is expensive for the whole day.”

Giggles “No we don’t dog sit.”

I hang up the phone and call the local number… 1 for
service… 1 for appliances… 1 for fridges…. Elevator music… finally a female
voice….”Can I have your ticket number?”

I read it out to her. “When did you buy your fridge?”

“In October”

“Ok. We don’t fix the fridges that are less than one years
old. You have to dial this number 1-800….”

She rambles off the same 1-800 I just hung up from.

“I just spoke to them and they said to call you” My voice is
still nice because I don’t want to be put on the “Bitch” list and have to wait
for weeks.

“Ok. I’ll take your name and number and check with GE but I
don’t think we can take this call.”

I give her my information. I should have taken the Nova
Scotia number to see if they really would have been here in two days.

I open the door and the grinding sounds louder. I start
searching around for anything that’s not low-fat. I spot a plate of left over
sausages and Minnie starts to whine for one.

“Oh shut up” I tell her “and if you think you’re getting a
frigging spa day out of this you’re mad. I am locking you in the garage.”

I bite into a cold sausage and dial 1-800…1 for English… 1
for service… 1 for appliances… 1 for fridges… elevator music…. It’s Dan with
his East Indian accent “Please give me your name, address state your problem
please.”

“Queen Elsa of Arendelle. My magic powers are gone. I can’t
seem to freeze anything because my fridge is broke.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“No, a reindeer, his name is Sven. He can’t fly but he is
friendly.”

Long pause…. He mutters something in East Indian… then the
dial tone.

Dan hung up on me and I don’t know why. We were having such
a good time.

I am Funny Like That

Helen C. Escott retired from the world renowned Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) in 2014 as the Senior Communications Strategist for Newfoundland and Labrador. Before joining the RCMP she worked in the media for 13 years (OZ FM/ VOCM/ CJYQ) in various positions including reporter, on-air personality, marketing and promotions.

In Retirement, Escott writes a blog called “I am Funny Like That” and has over 123,000 readers worldwide. Now this hysterical blog has come to life a witty book! It ranked on Amazon’s bestsellers list as #6 in Kindle Store and #20 in Books.

Escott has a unique perspective on life and a funny way of looking at it. From wearing granny panties to Brazilians to capturing the essence of a moment in a person’s life. Escott will make you laugh out loud and feel better about yourself. She is the best friend you have always wanted and the life of the party. You will be glad you invited her into your life.

If you have thrown your back out taking off Spanx, planned your husband's murder in your head or screamed through a Brazilian, this book is for you.

If you need a good laugh, or need to smile, this book is better than Prozac it will make you laugh out loud for days after reading it. 123,000 blog readers can't be wrong! Join in the laughter.